The Way it Should Have Been?
by Sam Porter
Summary: AU. Emily always harped on what should have been for Lorelai and Christopher. What will happen once she gets what she wants? Takes place when Lorelai first discovers she's pregnant.
1. It Turned Pink

**Title:** The Way it Should Have Been

**Summary:** AU, if Lorelai and Christopher had gotten married like their parents wanted. Told in the first person, through Lorelai's eyes.

**Disclaimer:** I own as many clothes as Lorelai, as many books as Rory and as many crappy cars as Jess. However, I do not own this show, any of its characters, settings, animals named after singers, etc.

**AN:** Sort of a "throw it up against a wall and see if it sticks fic." I've a vague idea of where it's going, key word being "vague."

**Chapter One: It Turned Pink**

"One tile, two tile, three tile, four," I mutter as I pace across my bathroom floor. It feels as though I've been standing here for hours, but it's only been ten minutes.

"Five more minutes," Christopher announces, peering down at his watch.

"Gee thanks, Father Time," I snap. I don't mean to lash out at him, but he's just sitting there like he doesn't have a care in the world and it's so easy to target him.

How did I let this happen? We were always so careful, I never let us be anything but. There was that time in Florida during winter break. We were a little tipsy, that I admit, but I swear to God we used a condom.

"I can't stand waiting!" I yell a little too loudly. I hope the maid doesn't come running in. If she tells Emily what she sees it'll surely get her fired.

"Maybe you're just getting fat," Christopher says hopefully.

Yeah, I wish. I know I'm pregnant, I can feel it. I'm exhausted all day long and then cannot sleep when night finally comes. There's something different about the way things smell and taste. I even ate an _apple_ yesterday. What the hell is that?

"Let's hope," I respond.

Chris's watch beeps and I freeze in mid pace.

"I really, really don't want to look at that stick," I say. I would rather listen to my father expound on the greatness of Chuck Berry for four hours than look at that stick. I would rather sit in on a DAR meeting than look at that stick. I would rather go to Bitsy Haversham's Sweet Sixteen than look at that damn stick.

But I have no choice. I need to look and finally know for sure.

"Do you want me to do it?" Christopher asks.

"No, I have to do it myself." I approach it, close my eyes and silently pray that I'm not really pregnant.

I open one eye and take a look, too scared to meet it with both eyes open.

Pink.

Christopher is hovering over my shoulder. "What does that mean?" he asks.

"It's a girl?" I say. What does he think it means? He read the box as many times as I did.

I'm pregnant.

I, Lorelai Victoria Gilmore, daughter of Richard and Emily Gilmore, the supposedly Yale-bound pride of the family, am officially pregnant at the age of 15 and three quarters.

How the hell am I going to tell my parents? They're going to either drop dead of heart attacks or kill Christopher where he stands. Of all the bad things that my parents feared could happen- tattoos, shoplifting, drinking, Harvard- I doubt pregnancy even crossed their minds.

"Okay," Christopher says. "We are not going to panic. We're going to make a rational, thoughtful decision about this situation."

"I'm not getting rid of it," I immediately reply. That came out of nowhere. Do I actually want to keep this baby?

"Lorelai, we need to think about our futures," Chris whines. "Having a baby is going to ruin everything."

"If you really feel that way then maybe you should leave," I say. I open my bathroom door and gesture towards my windows. "Go! Now!"

I honestly don't know what to do. All I know is that I can't look at Christopher right now.

"Lorelai, come on!" he says from the balcony.

I ignore him and throw myself down on my bed, trying to process this mess as I hear Chris climb down the tree.

"What do I do? What do I do? What do I do?" I ask the ceiling. Damn it, things aren't supposed to be like this! I'm supposed to be taking my PSATs next weekend. I'm supposed to be sitting for that stupid portrait Emily wants. Instead I'm suddenly responsible for this little life that's inside me.

I don't know if I can handle this. How can I have a baby? I can't even drive.

But it's mine; it's a little boy or girl version of Christopher and me. How can I even think of having an abortion or giving it up for adoption? I don't think I could live with myself if I went that route. I'd constantly be wondering what if. Too many what ifs can kill you.

My door clicks open without a knock. It's just like Emily to enter uninvited.

"The nutritionist is waiting for you down stairs, Lorelai," she says in that cold voice of hers that makes me sick and nervous at the same time.

"I thought you were kidding when you said that," I respond. She'd been threatening to hire one since I couldn't zip up my dress, but I never thought she would actually do it.

"Just get up and come downstairs. Now." Mien Fuhrer hast spoken.

There's a bubbly woman with a blonde bob waiting for me downstairs. "Ah, there's the girl of the hour!" she exclaims in such a perky tone that I want nothing more than to slap the simpering smile off her face. "Your mom tells me you're getting a little chubby! Well, I'm _sure_ I can help! I'm Genny, by the way!"

People who talk in exclamations really get on my nerves. Two hours later I have a guaranteed three week weight loss plan and a twitch in my right eye from hearing that woman exclaim over everything from the portrait I don't want to sit for to the nutritional benefits of carrot sticks.

Back in my bathroom, I stare at the pregnancy test. I keep waiting for it to turn a different color or give me some sort of an indication that it's wrong. But it's still pink. If anything the color looks brighter, more vibrant. Like it's mocking me.

I shove it into the cabinet under the bathroom sink and try to think of something else, but nothing, not even my Calculus homework or the new Bangles record can take my mind off of the baby.

"What am I going to do?" I ask again.


	2. Welcome to the Family

**AN: **Borrowed a line from the show. Don't sue. I have to pay for Columbia.

**Chapter Two: Welcome to the Family**

"Oh my God!" I yell out loud. I pull out the entire contents of the cabinet, but it's gone. How could it have disappeared? It didn't just run away. The baby is supposed to be developing feet, not my pregnancy test. I hunt through old Clinique gift with purchase bags, shopping bags, even the drawers but still can't find it.

It isn't in the cabinet anymore. That means someone found it. The maid or Emily. Emily! "Shit." There's no other word.

I listen for yelling or crying coming from downstairs and hear nothing but silence. I creep down to the living room, expecting to be accosted by my parents the moment I step foot in the living room.

As I peer into the room I see that they're silently sitting on the couch. My mother has the pregnancy test in her hand. My father clenches a copy of the _Financial Times _tightly in his fist.

Emily's head snaps up and she looks me right in the eyes. I expect venom or hatred, maybe even sadness, but there's nothing there. It's like she's looking at the maid, not her knocked-up fifteen-year-old daughter.

"Get in here, Lorelai, and sit down," she orders.

"Mom, I can explain. Christopher and I…" I begin, but she cuts me off mid-sentence.

"Keep. Your. Mouth. _Shut_," she hisses, her voice betraying the emotions she refuses to allow her face to show. "This is the last thing I expected from you, Lorelai. How dare you jeopardize your future like this? And Christopher! Look what you two have done to your lives! How dare you be so thoughtless? How dare you do this to our family?"

"Emily…" Dad says warningly.

"What, Richard? What is it that you want me to say to her? Congratulations, when are you due? I cannot abide by this!" she closes her eyes and a few tears drip down her cheeks. "You've ruined everything."

Oh this is just what I need. But how could I have expected anything different? This is Emily we're talking about. She's always been more concerned with how the ladies at the DAR will gossip about her than my own welfare.

I stare at my hands and for once keep quiet. I've seen her angry, but nothing has topped this. She's _crying_.

"We will discuss our future plans when Straub and Francine arrive," Dad declares. He snaps the paper open and begins to read.

Emily sits there breathing hard and clenching and unclenching her fists. She refuses to even look at me.

The arrival of the Haydens does nothing to lighten the mood. Straub's face is puce and Francine stands ramrod straight as she shoots looks of utter hatred in my direction.

"That whore has ruined my Christopher's life," she spits the minute we all sit down.

I stand up and almost fling my club soda in her face. "How dare you blame this on me, Francine? Christopher was just as active a participant in this as I was."

"You should know he can't control himself," Straub yells. "He's an idiot who let his hormones have power over him."

"Back the hell off my daughter, Straub!" Dad yells. "This is both their faults and they _both_ will take responsibility for this child."

"The hell Christopher will," Straub snarls. "She's the one with that… _thing_ inside her and she's the one who will be responsible for it!"

Thing? He called my child a _thing_? The bastard. That self-important, clueless bastard. I throw my glass down and it rolls under the coffee table. They all stare at me, shocked.

"Oh, for God's sake, Lorelai!" my mother begins.

"That thing is your grandchild, Straub," I yell. "And I will never let you forget that!" I storm out of the room and Christopher follows, despite his parents' protests.

I only make it halfway up the stairs before I throw myself down on the landing and hug my knees to my chest. Christopher sits next to me and puts his arm over my shoulders. We sit in silence as we listen to our parents argue over our futures.

"They will get married. They will live here and Christopher will go to work at my company. That is the solution." My father says this calmly, as though he has seen into the future and knows that everything will work out just fine.

Christopher and I sit and argue over their plans for us. I don't know if I can handle living with the two of them for God only knows how long, without Europe or school or anything to look forward to besides day after day of their judgment.

"Come on Lor, we can make it work," Christopher says hopefully. "We just have to try."


	3. Talk of the Town

**Chapter Three: Talk of the Town**

As I walk down the hall at school I can feel everyone looking at me. It's like they all know what's been going on. I wonder if Christopher told someone.

"Hey there, mommy to be!" someone calls out to me. I'm so startled that I almost drop my cup of coffee.

I whip around and come face-to-face with Celia Kingsford, my favorite person in the whole world besides Stalin.

"What are you talking about, Celia?" I ask, feigning confusion.

"Oh, honey. Didn't you hear about Francine's little breakdown at the DAR's Casino Night? She spilled everything!" Celia smirks at me and I fight the urge to poke her in the eye with my slap bracelet. "It's all over school. Even the teachers are talking about it."

I wanted to keep it quiet for as long as possible. They promised they wouldn't tell anyone. How could Francine do this to me? Forget about me, how could she do this to her own son?

Where is Christopher, anyway? I glance around the hall and head towards his locker when I can't find him. Celia is trotting after me the whole way.

"So how'd it happen? Were you drunk? Was it in his car? I bet it was in his car!" I try to ignore her but she keeps pressing. "Come on Lorelai, you can tell me! It'll just be between the two of us. I promise I won't tell a soul!"

"How about you shut your mouth and leave me alone, Celia!" I snap.

"Hey, we all have a right to know," she grins this snotty little grin at me and I hate her for it. "After all, you've just become a statistic."

"You know what would be great, at least for me, anyway? If I told everyone about you and Mr. Jacobs in the coatroom at homecoming. That would be _so_ much fun! I bet the Headmaster would get a big chuckle out of it." I smile as her cheeks flush a deep red and she makes and irritated squeaking noise.

"Don't you dare!" she exclaims.

"Doesn't feel as good when the spotlight's on you, does it?" I brush past her and approach Christopher who is cornered at his locker by two of his friends.

"You're not actually going to marry her, are you?" one asks.

"Yeah, you really want to be saddled with that, Chris?" They're both shaking their heads like they can't believe how stupid Christopher is.

"Of course I don't _want_ this," Christopher snaps at them. "Who in their right mind would want it? I have no choice and neither does Lorelai. Our parents have made the logical decision for us, and we'll have to go through with it no matter what."

"Leave her, man," one of them says. "Let her deal with it herself."

I don't wait to hear Christopher's reply. I'm hit with a wave of nausea and make a break for the bathroom before I make a mess all over the floor. A group of freshmen girls scatter as I burst into the bathroom, no doubt running off to spread the news that I'm puking in one of the bathrooms.

"Lorelai! Lorelai, where are you?" Christopher bursts into the bathroom and calls out to me.

"Get out of here, Chris," I weakly call back.

He comes into the stall and crouches down next to me. I let him hold my hair and rub my back while I retch into the toilet.

"I'm sorry you had to hear that, Lor," he says when my stomach finally calms down. "They're a couple of idiots and you know I'd never think like them. I just wanted to get them off my back."

"Oh, please. I know you don't want this baby. And anyway, they shouldn't even know," I whisper. My throat hurts too much to talk too loud. "How could your mother do this?"

"She was drunk. You know how she gets." That's a lame excuse and he knows it. What Francine has done is reprehensible.

"Look, I've got something for you." He reaches in his pocket and pulls out a diamond ring. It's flashy and more than a little tacky. Kind of like Francine. I bet she picked it out. "Marry me, Lor. Please."

"You're asking me to marry you on the floor of the girls' room two minutes after I stopped puking?" I ask.

"Yeah, I am." He holds a hand out and hoists me up off the floor. And then he gets down on one knee. "Come on, what do you say? Let's get married."

"I… no, Christopher." I back away from him and try to run out of the bathroom, but he grabs my hand. "I can't."

"Please, Lorelai. Please say yes," he begs. "It's what's best for the baby, for all of us."

"Come on, Chris," I say as I inch closer to the door. "You know you're only doing this because our parents are making us."

"No!" he exclaims. "I don't care about them; all I care about is us. Believe it or not, I think we have a future together."

He looks at me with pleading eyes and all I want to do is believe him. But I don't. I know he's just doing what it takes to get Straub off his back and Francine off her meds.

"I'm not letting go until you say yes," he says.

"Look, I need time. This is just way too much for me to deal with right now," I say. "I'm going to go home and think about it, okay? I'll call you." I need to get far away from Chris, this school, and these people who have nothing better to do than gossip about my life.

"Soon," he says. "Call me soon."

He lets go of my hand and I leave without responding. I don't know if I can handle this. Everybody wants and expects too much. No one seems to care what I want, not that I actually have any clue what that is.

"Not feeling good, Mommy?" Celia asks as I head for the door.

The only thing that can make me feel better, I decide, is pancakes and a gigantic cup of coffee. If I can keep it down, that is.

As I walk towards the restaurant I get that feeling that people are looking at me again. Maybe I'm just being paranoid. When I walk into Mike's I feel each pair of eyes turn in my direction. It's not paranoia this time. They're all blatantly staring at me. They all know. Amazing how fast news travels in this town.

I decide the best way to handle this situation is to pretend that there is nothing wrong. I take my seat in a booth and place my order with a waitress who asks if the coffee is really such a good idea considering my, "delicate state."

The women sitting behind me are loudly discussing my family. I hear snippets of the conversation; they obviously want me to hear their opinion. They're shocked that I was raised so badly. How ever will Richard and Emily deal with their bastard grandchild?

I've had enough and stand up and tell them so.

"What gives you the right to judge?" I hiss at them. "I'm not sitting around gossiping about how that perm of yours makes your head look like a giant cone of cotton candy or how that shade of eye shadow makes you look like an Oompa Loompa, am I? No! I keep my mouth shut and so should you!"

I have no choice but to leave, despite the fact that I'm starving and I see the waitress approaching with my plate.

I don't want anyone to see me cry.


	4. Miranda

**Chapter Four: Miranda **

"There you are, Lorelai," my mother is waiting for me at the front door. "I expected you home a long time ago."

"I needed some time alone," I mutter.

"Well you're here now and I've got a treat! Follow me!" Emily sounds cheerful and happy. She's actually smiling. What?

"Uh, no." I'm not going anywhere with Stepford Mommy.

"Lorelai, I don't have time for your games," she snaps. Ah, there's the Emily I know and fear. "Come into the dining room."

I find a bored looking woman sitting at the table flipping through a catalogue. "This is Amanda, your wedding planner," Emily announces. She elbows me. "Go say hello."

"Well, Mom, I'm not even engaged. So why do I have a wedding planner?" I ask.

"We've already been through this, Lorelai," she says through clenched teeth. "You and Christopher will be married."

"And your wedding will be spectacular, dear. Don't worry," Amanda interjects.

She then starts off on a long description of the wedding, which apparently I will have no part in planning. The colors will be lavender and cream. They've already reserved the Peony Ball Room at the Arboretum. The place settings they've chosen are ivory colored Lenox china, with Tiffany silverware.

"We even have your dress all picked out!" she exclaims.

This is unbelievable, even for Emily.

"Are you going to give me the date, or are you two just planning to spring it on me that morning?" I ask.

"Of course we'll tell you the date!" Amanda chuckles. "You're right Emily; the girl really is a card!"

"I can't believe you did this without me, Mom!" I say. "Did you ever think that I might have an opinion?"

"I simply thought that you would appreciate my help, Lorelai. I'm sorry that I was so wrong." Great, now she's going to play the martyr.

"If anything here isn't good enough for you or up to your high standards," she continues, "we'd be happy to change it. I'm sure Miss Celine would gladly procure you a hot pink spandex wedding dress, if that's what you desire."

"Cute."

Miss Celine then bustles into the room, trailing an armload of cream colored silk behind her.

"There you are, Natalie Wood!" she exclaims, peering up at me through her thick glasses. "I hear you've been naughty! It reminds me of the time Vivien Leigh thought she was pregnant with Clark Gable's child. Oh, those two hated each other, but the passion! It was like watching two cats have at it… "

"Miss Celine, please!" I silently thank my mother for shrilly interrupting Miss Celine's description of their passion.

"What was I saying, dears?" she asks.

"The dress, Celine, the dress," my mother is clearly exasperated.

"Ah, yes. An exceptional creation if I do say so myself." Miss Celine then holds out the frothy concoction that is my apparent wedding dress and I attempt to suppress a horrified gasp. It comes out as more of a strangled cry, which Miss Celine seems to take as an expression of my excitement.

"Yes, yes, do try it on, dear." She shoves the ton of tulle into my hands and Emily nods at the powder room.

"Go ahead," Emily orders.

As I struggle to pull it over my head, I realize the dress is even worse than I had originally thought. The skirt is composed of layer upon layer of off white tulle, while the beaded bodice clings tightly to my torso and chest. My hips look about three times as wide as my shoulders. The sleeves are long and sheer and flecked with champagne colored sequins. Each ends with a point that dangles oddly near my knuckles when I let my hands fall to my slides. The piece de resistance is the sheer netting that starts at the sweetheart neckline and rises to a turtleneck. My wedding dress has a turtleneck. That's disturbing on so many levels.

"Oh, isn't she lovely?" Miss Celine enthuses as I pick my way into the room, trying not to get tangled up in the hoop skirt. Amanda and my mother are in similar raptures. They're both staring at me as if I'm a prized pumpkin that just won at the county fair.

"No." That's all I say. Absolutely not. Not only am I not ever putting this hideous concoction on ever again, I will not be having Skipper's dream wedding, or any wedding for that matter.

"Lorelai…" Emily begins in that warning tone of hers.

I whirl around from the exit I was trying to make and place my hands on my hips. "Come on, Mom. This isn't just a little bit ridiculous to you? A shotgun wedding in a dress made for Ivana Trump? Your position at the DAR can't be so important to you that you'd force me into doing this, can it?"

Emily stares aghast. "The DAR has nothing to do with it. This is your life we're talking about, it's not a game."

"That's right, it's not," I reply. "So why do I feel like a pawn in some society chess match?"

"We're not discussing this any further. Go change and then go to your room. Helena will come to notify you when dinner is ready." Just like that she dismisses me. She guides Amanda and Miss Celine away from me as I stand with my mouth gaping open at their backs.

Naturally at this moment Dad comes home. He stops, looking slightly bemused, and we stare at each other for a few seconds. "I know, I look hideous," I say.

"When you were a child, you had a little china doll you used to carry around. Miranda, I think you named her. We couldn't get you to put her down, even though she was very expensive and delicate," he blinks and his eyes go soft and unfocused. "You look just like Miranda."

He leaves and I stand hypnotized for a few moments. Hot tears on my cheeks snap me out of it, and I hurry to the powder room and struggle out of the dress.


	5. Happy Birthday, Sweet Sixteen

**Chapter Five: Happy Birthday, Sweet Sixteen**

The clock on my dresser ticks closer to 5:01 AM. In two minutes I will be sixteen years old. In three weeks I will be married to Christopher. In six weeks I will finally take the PSATs, the one even remotely normal event on my calendar. And in less than six months I will give birth to a child.

I try to force my eyes to turn away from the second hand as it dutifully makes its way around the clock's face, but much like almost everything else in my life, it seems to be beyond my control.

I place my hands on my growing belly and whisper to it. "One of these days, my girl or boy, we will find a way out of this. I don't know what else to do. How can I just get up and leave? I have to feed you, and clothe you and educate you. I can't do it by myself."

It's true; at this point I can't go it alone. I've thought about it a lot these last five weeks as wedding plans were shoved down my throat, as that awful ring was forced on my finger, as I listened to Emily map out the next eighteen years of my life. I've thought about just getting up and leaving, walking out the door and never looking back. I have it all mapped out. I'd run away somewhere, to a place where Emily won't track me down, I'll find some sort of job and work until the baby comes.

It's at that point that my mind goes blank. After the baby comes. It seems unfathomable, this big huge question mark on my calendar smack in the middle of October. And this is why I stay. Because as much as I'd like to say that I'd be prepared and be able to handle all of the responsibility that comes with raising a child, I don't know if that's the absolute truth. I need these people, these meddling controlling people who claim that all they want to do is protect me. And I hate that I need them all so badly.

I focus on the clock again and am startled to see that it's now 5:08. "Happy birthday to me," I mutter and roll over to go back to sleep.

At a little past seven that evening the doorbell rings. My mother has taken it upon herself to throw me a birthday party, despite my pleading with her not to. "Lorelai, come down now please!" Emily. She's got that fake happy tone in her voice and I know I'll never hear the end of it if I don't do as she says and go down there with the happiest of smiles on my face.

At the top of the stairs I spot Celia and a few of her cronies. She points at me and they all stare. You think they'd get enough of that at school.

Emily gazes up as well. "Aren't you going to say hello to your friends, dear?"

I sigh, grit my teeth and plaster on a fake smile. "Thanks soooo much for coming, girls!"

Emily nods, seemingly satisfied and wanders off to harangue a caterer. "Why is that taper there young man?" His stammering reply fades away as she drags him out of earshot.

"Still have morning sickness, Lor?" Fiona Burns questions. "You look a little green. Or are you just upset about your situation? You'd think you'd be happier, what with the fortune you'll be able to get your hands on once you've married Christopher. That IS why you got pregnant, isn't it?"

"Oh stop it, Fiona! We all know Lorelai didn't get pregnant for Christopher's money." This is from Celia, who is frowning at her friends. "She did it to get away from Emily and Richard. That backfired, didn't it Lorelai?"

They all titter.

I make my way down the stairs and past them without responding. It's been like this ever since they found out. It started out as snide comments about my lack of chastity and gradually become more venomous once they discovered I had agreed to marry Christopher. At first it bothered me. I felt like the whore they thought I was, but now I've learned to ignore it. It doesn't even have anything to do with me, really. It's about making themselves feel better and I refuse to be a party to their idiocy.

"The truth hurts, Lorelai!" Fiona calls after me.

My future husband is standing uncomfortably on the patio with our parents. Francine and Emily seem to be arguing about something, judging by the dramatic arm movements Francine is making. She shoots me one of her nasty looks as I join the group.

"Our parents were just discussing our job prospects," Christopher mutters. "Mother believes I would be better off working with my father than yours."

"...absolutely not true. The insurance company will be a fine educational experience for the boy. I can't imagine a better introduction to the workforce. And as Christopher becomes more skilled he'll move up in the company. If he plays his cards right he could end up running the place." Richard is heartily defending the placement he has lined up for Christopher.

"That's all very nice, but Christopher belongs with his father. Straub's company is obviously the better fit. He grew up in that environment." Francine swings her arm for emphasis and her drink sloshes over her arm. Great, one hour into this disaster and she's already plastered. This bodes really well for the night.

"Shouldn't we wait until he passes the GED first?" I ask. Five pairs of eyes swivel towards me at once. Instantly I wish I could take it back.

"Are you implying that my son is incapable of passing that test?" Straub roars, and the entire party stares.

"Well, he is only a junior in high school." I respond. Wrong answer.

"It is entirely your fault that the boy has to take that insipid exam, you little slut." Francine leans close and hisses this in my face. I can smell the liquor on her breath. "Because of you he has to give up on his real education. Because of you his life is ruined!" She's yelling now, everyone on the patio turns to face us.

My father's face rapidly colors and my mother's jaw hangs agape. Sure, there have been outbursts from Francine in the past few weeks, but never in public. I can't take it anymore and lash out.

"I am _tried _of being the punching bag!" I yell at her and at everyone gathered at my party. "It is absolutely _not _my fault; I didn't ask for this, I didn't want this. I am _sick_ of being treated like a criminal by all of you. Judged, whispered about, the punch line of every joke. Why is it that I'm the target all the time? Why not Christopher? I certainly didn't lure him into bed. You want to hear about how we did it in your hot tub, on your couch and in your kitchen, huh? You want to hear about how he begged me to just touch him? You want to hear about that, Francine? No? Well then stop taking your disappointment in him out on me. It stops here, both of you." I point at Straub and Francine with my finger shaking. "If you ever want to see this child you will keep your damn mouths shut. I mean it. If you don't have it in you to be civil I don't want you around."

"How dare you talk to me like that, little girl?" Francine says. She's shaking with anger. "I will not take orders from a slut like you. You have absolutely no right to talk to me like that or to demand anything from me. Your involvement in my son's life has been nothing but a disaster and you are damn lucky I allow him to even associate with trash like you."

"That's enough, Francine," my father says.

Francine throws a glass at my feet and Straub grabs her by the arm and yanks her away. I feel my mother's hands on my shoulders as my father steps in front of me. They want to protect me, but at this moment I feel as though I will never need them again. It felt damn good to say all that to them. To all of them. I'm panting. The tension in my back is gone though. I feel peaceful.

"I'm done," I whisper. "No more."

Francine marches back inside. "Come along Christopher." She turns and glares at him.

"I don't think so, Mom." He stands beside my father in front of me.

"Think about the choice you are making, young man." Straub glowers at us all.

"I think you made the choice for me, Dad."

They leave and an excited buzz rises up around me. No one can quite believe what they've heard.

"Thank you. All of you." I reach for Christopher, but he brushes my hand away.

"Not now, Lor." He's gone before I can say anything else.


	6. Pride Day

**Chapter Six: Pride Day **

I really wish the damn bus would just get here already. I've been standing here for twenty minutes and haven't seen any sign of it. It's raining and too cold for the last week of May. I wrap my coat more tightly around me and shift from side to side.

I should be at the spa getting my nails done and having some sort of a treatment that involves wallowing in mud. Emily is probably about to send out a search party. Or a hit man. I don't care what she thinks; right now I want nothing more than to get the hell out of here.

I'm supposed to be getting married tomorrow. My dress has been let out, the flowers have arrived, the Peony Ball Room is being converted into my mother's vision of my dream wedding even as I stand here shivering. And all I can think about is how badly I want to get away from them all.

Emily has taken to walking around the house like a Chanel clad Rommel, barking out orders to the planner, the planner's assistants and the servants. Dad stays late at work most nights and hides in his study when he gets home. He keeps balefully staring at me and the swell of my belly every time I walk into a room, as if wondering what he did to deserve this. Christopher and his parents haven't spoken since the party. Emily has forced him into the pool house and like my father he only emerges for meals. The house has taken on a funereal atmosphere and it is utterly exhausting.

Finally the bus arrives and I hop on. I don't care where it goes, just as long as it's away from here. I watch from my window as city become country and houses first become smaller and closer together, then larger and more spread apart. "Woodbridge," the driver calls out as he stops. A few people get off and the bus lumbers on. I lean my head against the rain lashed window and watch as we make our way down a winding country road.

Another little town appears. There are a number of farm houses, a few rambling Victorians, a handful sturdy Colonials. Interestingly, every house has a large purple bow tied to one of the trees on its lawn. As we move onto what is obviously the town's main street the purple bows become more prevalent. The bus stops and this time I get off. I glance up and see a banner waving in the wind. "Stars Hollow Pride Day" it proclaims in large purple letters. It's today apparently, but no one appears to be around. The weather must have kept people away.

I walk across the street and into a diner filled with a din of excited voices.

"This is absolutely absurd, people. Don't you care about the welfare of this town at all?" A long haired man with a beard stands in the middle of the room, holding boxes of garbage bags in his hands. He looks exasperated and exhausted.

"I care a more about not getting pneumonia, Taylor." A tiny blonde lady and her friend both cackle at the bearded man.

"Yeah, why didn't you schedule a rain date?" the friend asks. She and the blonde giggle again as the man named Taylor drops half his boxes.

"I might have forgotten about that until it was too late to change the sign without incurring a prohibitively priced penalty," he responds defensively. It seems as though everyone in the room chuckles at that.

"So you thought you'd just carry on with your crazy little plan to have everyone pick up the nonexistent garbage that litters this town. In the driving rain, I might add," says a young man coming from the kitchen. He juggles three plates effortlessly and sets them down in front of his customers. Everyone giggles and continues chiding Taylor.

I sit down at the counter to wait out the hubbub. Next to me is the town's paper and as I wait I read an interview with the man everyone in the diner is teasing. Apparently Stars Hollow Pride Day is the key to the town becoming one of the greatest tourist destinations in Connecticut. Or at least that's what Taylor thinks.

"Excuse me," I say as the guy comes back out from the kitchen with another stack of plates.

"One minute." He looks at me with bright blue eyes and I swear to God my heart stopped beating for a minute. And then I remember that in less than twenty-four hours I will be a married woman, but not before swiveling to check out whether the backside was as appealing as the front. It was.

He's coming back towards me and I try again. "Excuse me!" I yell to be heard over all the loud voices. But he's distracted by more customers at another table. I'm vaguely annoyed at this point and scribble my interpretation of his horoscope on the newspaper. I catch him before he disappears back into the kitchen and shove the piece of newspaper into his hands. He reads it, stares at it and then me. At least I got his attention.

"What'll it be?" he asks.

"Coffee, black. In your biggest cup. Huge. Gigantic. Mammoth. I want that puppy to be so colossal you can see it from outer space!" I exclaim.

"So large coffee," he says dryly. "Anything else?"

"Are you still serving breakfast?" I ask.

"All day," he responds.

"Terrific! I'll have pancakes with an order of bacon _and_ hash browns. And three scrambled eggs. Oh, and some rye toast with lots of butter. And some jam to go with it. Preferably strawberry, if you please." He's staring at me. I hate it when people do that. "That's it."

"You actually gonna eat all that?" he asks.

"Why wouldn't I?"

I turn my attention back to Taylor. "You didn't seem to think it was a bad idea when you were taking my bows, did you?" he's more than a little angry at this point. "I want them back, people! _Alllll_ of them."

"Taylor, you made us take them. You had a list and checked off everyone who took one, remember? And then you called everyone who _didn't_ have one yesterday morning and _made_ them all come down to the store and pick one up!" the heavyset woman calls out.

"Yes, well…" Taylor stammers and bends to pick up his dropped garbage bags. "I want them all back for next year. By Wednesday, in my store, if you please!" He walks out in a snit.

The guy comes back with two plates heaping with amazingly good smelling food.

"Be honest with me. You're going to be joined by, like, two other people right? You can't actually eat all that yourself?" he looks mystified that someone my size can pack all this in.

"Actually, I am. I'm feeling very peckish this afternoon," I say looking up at him from behind a forkful of pancake. "It would be super if you could get me a milkshake, too. Can you do a black and white?"

His jaw hangs open a bit, and he looks like he wants to say something. I can see him struggling with a snide remark. Finally, he sighs and says, "Let me guess- large, right?"

I smile. He rolls his eyes and walks away.

Reviews, por favor? I know you're out there… I can see the hit count.


	7. Don't Let Them Win

AN: Thanks for the reviews/ comments. I appreciate them!

**Chapter Seven: Don't let them Win**

"Lorelai Victoria Gilmore!" Emily is standing right outside the front door, holding a Burberry umbrella over her head and scowling at me as I trudge up the driveway. She runs down to meet me half way. "Where in the name of God were you!? Your father and I were just about to call the police. I called all your friends; they don't know where you are. Christopher hasn't seen you all day. Then that crazy old dingbat Miss Meade says she saw you on the bus. The bus, Lorelai! Really!"

I can't figure out if she's more upset that I went somewhere without telling her or that I took the bus to do so. "I just needed some time alone, Mom."

"Time alone! Honestly Lorelai!" Emily chides as she guides me into the house. "You do not just vanish without telling anyone. Don't do that ever again."

"Would you please stop treating me like a child?" I shout and back away from her. The maid clucks as I scatter droplets of water all over the newly polished floor. She drops to her knees and attempts to mop it up with a dish towel.

"Inga, please!" Emily shrilly yells. "Go somewhere else!"

She whirls on me. "As much as you would like to think otherwise, missy, you are a child. And as long as you live here you will follow the rules your father and I have made for you. I don't care if you're married or pregnant, you are still my child and I will decide how you live and what you do, is that clear?"

I gawk at her. How dare she? Doesn't she understand that my childhood slipped away the second that stick turned pink? Doesn't she understand that I wish, so, so badly, that the greatest concern in my life would be the ridiculous rules she concocts for me? She's the one who is forcing a life as a DAR wife on me and yet she still reprimands me for having the gall to take some time for myself. No. This is just unacceptable.

"No!" This time I yell it at her. "You can't have this both ways, mother. You can't expect me to be a dignified married lady and a little girl at the same time. It's not gonna work. I've agreed to marry Christopher and I _will_ make a sincere effort to make this marriage work, but let me be very clear about one thing: I am not doing it because you've told me to. I'm doing it for the baby, not you."

"Lorelai…" she says warningly. "That's enough."

"I'm not done yet! This child is mine- mine and Christopher's. You will not interfere! You will not make decisions for it- that will be our job. Yes, I appreciate the help you are willing to give me- I won't deny that. But my allowing you to help us does not give you free reign to run our lives." I run out of breath and stare at her defiantly.

From behind me someone delicately clears their throat. "If that is all, I would like to have a word with the child, Emily."

I freeze. It can't be. She wouldn't fly all the way from England for this. My mother rolls her eyes heavenward and lets out a loud sigh. "Of course," she says and makes a hasty exit.

Gran. It has to be Gran, no one else I've ever met can sound so imperious and condescending. I whirl around and there she stands. Clad in all black, you'd think she had just come from a funeral. Her hair is pulled back from her head in a harsh bun and her blue eyes glint with intelligence. She stares at me evenly, her mouth set in a harsh line. She walks towards the living room and gestures for me to follow.

As she settles in she regards me and my slightly expanded waistline with distaste. "You've caused this family quite a bit of pain, young lady." She begins. I open my mouth to respond to her but she holds up her hand and I remain silent. "Pregnant at sixteen. Forced to marry. Forget about receiving a proper education. It takes a lot of strength to face society in your state. Which is why I was so surprised to receive a wedding invitation from your father. I thought you would have shrunk away from the limelight… and I would have thought for sure that your social climbing mother would have kept this disgrace hidden."

"How dare you call me a disgrace?" I spit out at her and get up to leave.

"I am not done." She stares levelly at me. "I find your willingness to submit to this public sham of a marriage to be very… reminiscent of my own behavior." I gasp, she can't mean… "No, no. I was never in your situation. I was never that stupid. But I do enjoy your refusal to hide. To make them all look at and acknowledge what you've done. Well done in that respect, child. Never, ever let them think they've won. Never let them think that a Gilmore is less than them." She lets out a dry laugh and I wonder if dignified Gran has been hitting the hooch.

"So I'm a disgrace, but you're proud of me?" I ask, mystified.

"I am not proud of the behavior that led to this unfortunate situation, no one in their right mind would be. This absolutely should not have happened. But I am proud of your refusal to hide. Resilience is a Gilmore trait and I admire your ability to face the pack of wolves that will constitute your wedding guests." Gran sits back in her chair and I swear she smiles at me.

I wonder what she would say if she knew I had been thinking about never leaving Stars Hollow. That I had to force myself to leave that homey little diner, that as I sat at the back of the bus and watched that "Stars Hollow Pride Day" banner shrink from view a stream of tears dripped down my face. She wouldn't be so proud of me then, would she?

Gran reaches into a pocket and comes up with a small folded piece of paper, which she presses into my hand. I unfold it and see that it's a check to me for a substantial amount of money.

"Why?" I ask.

"Should you ever decide that life would be better without Christopher," she responds.

"I… I don't understand," I stammer. "You just spent the last ten minutes praising my refusal to leave and now you're telling me I should go. That doesn't make any sense."

"Lorelai, have you every read the poem 'Observation' by Dorothy Parker?" she asks.

"I don't know who that is." I say.

"Look it up and then you'll understand."

"I doubt that very seriously," I respond. "What does a poem have to do with my life?"

"Lorelai, you are doing a wonderful thing by giving that child life, by being so willing to arrange your life around what is best for it." She pauses and looks at me sadly. "Your decision to marry Christopher may be a mistake and if it is, if you ever feel you need to end your marriage and leave, I want you to be able to properly care for my great-grandchild."

I hand the check back to her. "I appreciate your concern, but I don't want your money," I say. "I can make my own way if I have to."

This time she does smile, fully. "Very well. Just know that this was a one time offer." She gets up and heads towards the stairs.

"And by the way," she turns to face me once more. "That ring is far too gaudy."


End file.
